A Theif In Our Midst
by shells210
Summary: Sam was happy with her life. A professional thief, content with what she had, away from the stifling hand of her parents. She made the mistake once of meeting Tony Stark and discovered that she could not steal from him. Made the err of becoming acquaintances with Bruce Banner, and found she could not sell him out. Made the gaffe of getting onto SHIELDs radar, and they came to call.
1. Content By Firelight

**First time writing for the avengers, wish me luck!**

**The boys don't come in just yet, but Tony will be in the next chapter. **

**Own nadda.**

The fire crackled warmly in the old house and Samantha Rosenwell smiled slightly to herself, relaxing in the recliner and propping her feet on the raised stone before the fireplace. It was a nice house, with a nice set up. Wood panels lined the walls, obscured by numerous paintings and very old pictures. The mantel above the fireplace, made entirely of brick and stretching up to the ceiling, had been adorned with pale blue and dark violet vases as well as deer antlers and three clay pheasants no bigger than her hand. To either side of the brick were stacks of books and a decent sized tube of art equipment as well as false and true plant. Coupled with the nice satin furniture and the upright piano in the corner the room was comfortable.

The entire house was comfortable actually. Well-furnished to point of bordering cluttered there were three dining rooms, the living room, a sitting room in the back, a work shop in one basement, four bedrooms in the second basement, a master bedroom, a garage, and an antique shop positioned in a room that sat atop the garage.

A very nice house.

It had come to Sams attention that year the each winter the old couple who lived in the large house left, moving to Arizona until the sun came out in the mountain town of Woodland Park Colorado. And Sam, being broke and having nowhere else to go, had made herself at home this winter. It had been a month, since the beginning of October, since she had moved in, taking up residence in the smallest bedroom in the basement.

The couple had a daughter and a friend that would come in to check that nothing had been broken into or stolen once a week, so Sam avoided doing so, settling for living comfortably in the warmth of the home and eating food out of the neighbors kitchens. It was a good neighborhood, and most of the occupants had children, so there was little surprise when a few things went missing without explanation. It was good, perfect really. And beyond warm.

Sam was pleased with her find in the house, well-built but not very insulated. However it was stocked with blankets and the gas fireplace made up for what heat was lacking. And they had cable.

It was good set up for one such as Sam, who legally didn't exist and never had. With no social security number and no past to speak of there was no way for her to get a legal job, so she took to stealing what she needed to survive. And soon got good enough at that to steal to be comfortable, and eventually good enough to steal professionally.

So yes, she had money, and could have bought her food, but that would have been a waste when there were other people who did that for her. Besides, she was more than happy to stay inside as much as she could.

Samantha relaxed completely, eyes slipping shut and peace settling over her body. The curtains were drawn and lights were dim, no one had any idea she was there. It was nice, peaceful. Sadly, that peace was soon broken by the incessant buzzing of her phone, one of the few things she willingly paid for. Without breaking her posture she picked it up off the side table, unlocking the screen with a few quick taps and glancing at the message.

It seemed she had a job.


	2. Everyone Dances

Twenty four hours and a plane ride found Samantha, under the name of Christine Wellington, in New York City, dressed to the nines and perched on the arm of Lexington Alcott, her current employer. Mr. Alcott had seen it rough for several years now, falling behind in the technology race between Stark and Hammer, and was only a few months away from publically announcing the closing of his near bankrupt company. But he had come to conclusion that if he got some of Starks blue prints, or even vague ideas that had been jotted down at some point, he might be able to make a comeback.

Which was why he had hired the woman he came to know as the thief Kris. Sam was known for several names, all of them as expert spies and information gatherers, and it was said she would do anything for the right price.

_(Though her contract clearly stated that she reserved the right to back out at any time before the final hand off and payment.)_

So today she was Kris, curled blonde hair, perfectly shaped blue eyes and glaringly red lips pursed in a perpetual smile. She greeted men at Mr. Alcott's side and chatted with women about the men, the latest dresses, and the jewelry that was draped around her neck, diamonds that matched the gleaming design around the waist of her red chiffon.

It was a fundraiser, specifically for cancer research, and Kris (_Christine Wellington, pleased to meet you Ms. Potts. That's a lovely broach, where ever did you get it?)_ slid seamlessly into the role of minor socialite and family friend.

Halfway through the night, right as dinner was announced to begin in ten minutes, she excused herself from Pepper Potts surprisingly pleasant company, vanishing through the door to the hall and side stepping some of the younger guests at the party.

The now blond woman wasn't necessarily wandering, but she wasn't taking much of an active attempt at finding her target. She would wait until dinner had started fully, find Mr. Starks room in the hosting hotel (_Tony insisted it would be easier to just book a room than call a car hen this was all over) _as his CEO and apparent girlfriend had been so kind as to explain_ ("Tony insisted it would be easier to just book a room than call a car when this is over"). _

It wasn't hard; all she had to do was slip behind the front desk when no one was looking. She plugged into the system and ran a quick search, jotting down the room number on a slip of paper and tucking into sweat heart neckline she so loved.

The room itself was pathetically easy to break into. A swiped skeleton key from a guard (_thank you so much for pointing in right direction sir, I'm afraid I might have drunk a bit more than I meant to)_ and she was standing in the penthouse suite. There were four cases, the first two turned out to be clothes, the third didn't even open, and the fourth was filled with papers worth of sketches and, low and behind, a tablet.

It didn't take three minutes for 'Christine' to realize that there was no way she could get it open. So a phone was produced from her white leather handbag and a call was made.

"Jasper? Hey, it's me, need you to do me a favor dear," She smiled at the sleepy sound of her friends voice at the other end, a grumble before actual words.

"Sam, or whoever you are now. Jesus Christ woman it's, _bloody fuckin hell_ it's three in the morning! I came to Minsk to _sleep_ for once in my damn life and what do I get? Some random fuckin call in _three in the morning_," the woman waited patiently for him to stop ranting and probably put on a pot of coffee, the working relationship between them strong and their actual relationship built on several years of familiarity.

"I need you to hack into Tony Stark's computer."

There was silence.

"_What?_" she had to hold the phone away from her ear at the sudden volume and the frenzy that broke up on the other line, "give me a minute I need to start off my desk. _Starks computer_. I do this and my name's up forever. You know how much my client pool is going to grow? Okay I'm ready, plug me in."

The sound stilled on the other side and the woman pulled out a small flash drive like device from the bag, pushing it into the charging jack and watching the screen, formerly lit up with a picture of Iron Man at an expo several years in the past, turn bright, blinding blue. White number appeared across the screen and several cursed were heard through the phone while 'Christine' took to searching the rest of the suit case. She found a manila folder filled with papers about construction and contact information and managed to dig out an odd list of what she assumed to be work partners that start hadn't transferred to electronic resources.

There was nothing she could find of use, and when she looked back at the tablet it was glowing softly and very much open. Information flashed across the screen and a mad cackle sounded through the muffled phone line.

_Jasper really is the best _

Of course being a technopath was probably a great deal of help for her friend, and the fact that he had managed to hack into Tony Stark's computer was amazing in and of itself. Kris scrolled through the blue prints that were provided, aware that the AI Stark was so well known for had probably called the police, SHIELD and Tony himself. The blond selected three less complicated and unfamiliar designs from the selection and saved them to her drive, humming softly to herself as she worked.

"Jasper, you really are the best," she commented, pulling the plug out and watching the machine power down to its regular screen saver and lock. It was placed perfectly in its case and everything was returned to order in the way it had been found.

"You're damn strait I am. I'm getting cut, of course?" there were several crackles in the background as his devices powered down once more and he himself ceased the use of his abilities.

"Of course," she agreed, brushing off her dress and wiping away any remnant of the already false finger prints, "I've got to go, but I will be seeing you later."

The phone vanished into the bag along with the drive and the woman walked confidently out of the room, finding the security room and, after waiting for the guard to take a quick trip of relief, made good use of her own computer skills, adjusting the footage to the point it wouldn't be noticeable and erasing evidence of her having been above the third floor, installing her own repeated image on several floors below, as though she had gotten turned around.

She returned to the ball room, making her excuse of getting lost and spending the rest of the evening with Mr. Alcott, up until the very end when slower music started. She stood off to the side while her employer made his way to one of the actually wealthy women.

_Typical. Bring a girl to a party and just leave her all by her lonesome. _

It wasn't a minute later and voice appeared from her side, one that Kris had not expected, or wanted, to hear.

"You don't dance?" her head snapped to side and blue eyes met brown at her own lever. A goatee decorated the man's chin and a dark brow was raised to couple his question.

"I would, but Mr. Alcott seems to be busy at the moment," she gestured vaguely to the older man on the other side of the room, chatting up with two girls not even a third his age.

"Well that's not going to work out here. Everyone dances at my parties," he stated, and before 'Christine' knew it she was being spun around the room in a startled daze by one billionaire while his girlfriend looked on, shaking her head as she went over something with one of the other attendees.

While they danced they talked, Tony mostly at least, with Kris tossing in the occasional comment _(you've really done all that? He actually said that to your face? That's so interesting, and the electricity flows without too much trouble? What if the wires freeze?) _that kept the conversation going. By the end of the night Kris, no, Sam, had had actual fun at her job for once in a very long while.

Mr. Stark_ (call me tony, I'm not your science teacher)_ handed her off to her employer, unaware of the small electronic drive and business card tucked into his pocket.

"Did you get it?" Mr. Alcott asked once they were leaving the hotel.

"I'm afraid his system was too advanced for me to hack into. I'm sorry sir, you'll keep your money of course," the man nodded, not seeming too surprised but making sure she knew that for her failure no one he knew would be hiring the infamous Kris.


	3. The Good Doctor

**One of my personal favorite members of the team, Bruce Banner.**

* * *

A two week vacation left Sam in a very good mood, even if Jasper had been annoyed at her. She had held up to her word though, just as always, and paid him a good amount for his services. Friends or otherwise one in their line of work could never have too much money burning into their pockets. Sam didn't mind though, unlike Jasper she was no longer paying for a place to live, and wouldn't until around the third week of May. She was called up again long before then, by none other than a very famous man known as 'Thunderbolt' Ross.

Mr. Ross was known by other names in her line of work, many of them implying less than pleasant things about the man, and most were fairly sure he was utterly insane. After a bout of drunken depression and an incident many blamed him for wherein Harlem, well, broke, few were willing to work for him. Sam had absolutely no idea how he had managed to weasel his way back into the government, let alone how had managed to procure that much money. Sam hadn't been offered that many 0's in a year or more. And all to find one doctor.

Well the thief, hired under her more popular alias of Spade (the story behind that one you'll have to ask the citizens of Budapest) had pulled a few strings, called a few snitches and sneaks and voilà, here she was in India. One of the less tourist infested areas. Her hair fell long and black in that country, giving her a bit more inconspicuous cover as she looked for the exact location of her target. It wasn't hard, all she had to do was ask if there was doctor around, show them the wrist she had accidently broken shortly before the generals call (messily wrapped in less than sterile rags and hung from a sling of her own fashioning) and they directed her to a small hut at the edge of the town/village.

Once there she paused at the door, shifting on her feet and brushing a long strand of hair out of her face before she raised her hand to knock on the thin piece of wood. There was short shout of 'just a minute' and the sounds she recognized a bed rolls moving and clothes being yanked on before the door opened and the young woman found her then brown eyes met with irises of a similar shade.

The good doctor took one look at her arm before pulling the door open and gesturing for her to enter, brown locks flopping into his face in a way that Spade found fairly cute. The man wasn't bad looking, he was no Tony Stark, but he wasn't a sore sight at all, she thought as she was lead into the small house and settled onto the floor. Her legs tucked beneath her the doctor took her arm in hand, gently pulling her hand out of the makeshift sling and looking it over before asking in what she noted a fluent Tamil what happened.

"I fell off a roof," she replied, smiling slightly when he shot her an odd, almost amused look and turned her hand in a way that made her hiss.

"What were you doing on a roof?" he asked, focusing once more on his task. The young woman gave a one shouldered shrug, ignoring the slight tingle of electrons on the skin of her neck. The translator she had wrapped around her neck and plugged into her ear, under the appearance of a small choker and an old ear cuff, pulled at the vibrations her throat made every few minutes, deciding what needed changing and what was just her breath.

"Well I would have been in a tree, but the cat's grown bored of those I think.

"I don't think you told me your name?" the floppy haired doctor commented, fingers pressing in on her carpals gently as he focused on his work.

"I don't think I got yours," she replied, looking up when the door to the doctor's home was flung open and little girl appeared, out of breath and clutching a wad of cash to her chest.

"Please," she begged, looking desperately at Dr. Banner, "my mother is not waking up! Please help her she won't open her eyes!"

The man was on his feet immediately and Spade remembered what several residence had told her about the man ('he's good to us, the Doctor.' 'If you can't pay right now don't worry too much dear, he'll give you time.' 'Saved my uncles leg last week, you're arms in good hand miss.'). She stood as well, putting her arm back in her sling and looking at the dirty, terrified little girl. Spade walked out the door after the doctor, who gave her a quick diagnoses (It's sprained, not broken, put some ice on it if you can and don't use it to much. You'll be fine,) before sprinting out into the dark after the child that had burst in.

Spade stood there for several moments, looking at the retreating back of her target before sighing and pulling her phone out of one of the folds of her skirt, flicking through the photos and stopping at a security picture taken a year before in Harlem of the man. This interacting with her targets was becoming bad for business. A number was punched into the screen as she walked around the small area that made up the man's home. It was mostly plain, simple, except for the laptop on the corner. Her phone rang in her ear several times before a gruff, militarist voice made itself heard.

"Did you find him?" she cleared her throat and switched the translator off, unaware that the doctor had returned to take a few materials with him and was standing at the door watching the woman wearily, listening to her half of the perfectly English conversation.

"Yes General, I've done my job. You have my money I trust?" she waited until she heard his confirmation before switching ears and shrugging her shoulder into the sling, "good. Dr. Banner is in a small town in south Chile. Thank you for your business."

"Why did you do that?" she turned around, surprised to see him standing there, breathing in slow, controlled breaths and looking confused, but not quite angry.

"Because that man is insane and you seem nice enough," she had decided that he didn't deserve to have military on his ass. She had been there, hell for a few months she had been dodging SHIELD, and she didn't have any intention of throwing someone as nice as Dr. Banner under the bus. Before he could move Spade had crossed the room and placed a card in the pocket of his trousers before walking out, smiling at him and stepping out of the light his home cast.

"Thank you doctor. I hope you have a nice night."

And then she was gone.


	4. News!

**Okay so starting tomorrow is finals week, which means one of two things.**

**A) I will either be updating a lot because I write to procrastinate on my studying.**

**or**

**B) I won't be updating at all because I'm in a panicked frenzy over studying. **

**So this isn't an actual update, but while you wait I would appreciate any feedback you want to give me, and if you have the time to vote in my polls that would be great as well. I should get back to my normal habits by the first week of January, when school sets back in, and Christmas break I won't even try to guarantee anything. You might see some christmas fillers though, but who knows! **

**So yeah, that's about it. And if I don't get to say it later, I'll say it now. **

**Merry Christmas!**


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